


safety net

by ixcarus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Vague Route, but thats to be expected in a fire emblem fic right, each side character only has like one line im sorry, introspective, one (1) dorogard crumb i managed to slip in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixcarus/pseuds/ixcarus
Summary: It’s not that Claude doesn’t love Dimitri back. He wouldn’t have pursued a relationship seriously if that were the case. It’s just... Claude can count the amount of times those words have been said to him with sincerity with one hand.He might say a lot of things to try and charm his friends — and even his enemies — but those three words are sacred.__Or: Five times Dimitri says "I love you," and the one time Claude says it back.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 29
Kudos: 357





	safety net

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! i feel like i've been on a roll with these shorter one-shots... my chaptered fics? What? I don't know what you're talking about (haha jk,, im working on them I promise). Dimiclaude brainworms invaded so I just had to write SOMETHING,,, this entire fic is based on this tweet by [ceri](https://twitter.com/cerikino/status/1229074983319560192) but it got wildly out of hand
> 
> this was also beta-ed by the wonderful, wonderful [ serenescribe.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenescribe) Thank you so much for the help! And they have a wonderful sylvix piece so uh... check it out guys if u want ;)
> 
> other than that, hope you guys enjoy!

**1.**

In his defense, Claude had been sleep deprived for the entire week. 

Well, he’s _always_ somewhat sleep deprived, but the past few days have been particularly bad. It’s one thing to stay up late for school, but he supposes the situation is slightly different when he’s curled up in a hidden corner of the library at some god-awful hour between night and day, with history books detailing time periods far from their current curriculum piling around him. It’s a lot easier to lose himself to time, then, and sometimes he isn’t even sure if he’s awake until the sun rises and he pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. 

But no matter how tired he gets, Claude knows he can’t afford to complain about it. Sure, he’s studied extensively on Fodlan’s history, but there’s only so much the second-hand books from his mother can teach him. Garreg Mach’s library hosts ancient books that date back to _thousands_ of years ago, and as much as Seteth tries to filter what content is allowed, there’s enough information within these walls that Claude would be a fool to not take advantage of it. 

The other lords don’t spend nearly as much time in here, which should be expected. Dimitri and Edelgard probably have Fodlan’s extensive history engraved into their brains by now, and Claude isn’t _bitter_ , but it’s a bit frustrating to know how much he has to catch up on. They have the home advantage, and Claude is always reminded of this when they mention some old event he doesn't know about, and he feels as if he’s being left behind. 

This time, Claude finds himself trying to sketch out the timeline of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, his notes laid out around him as he tilts his head in thought. He knows it started with Loog and the battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but the events _after_ that major battle are shady at best. He’s close to figuring out all the loose ends, he can _feel_ it, but his handwriting has derailed into a barely-legible state and he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open. 

Perhaps he should rethink the situation — look at it from a different angle, maybe? He might find the answer that way— and a part of him wants to ask for a second opinion, but another knows he can figure this out by himself if he just _thinks…_

… and the next thing he knows, someone is shaking him awake. 

His first instinct is to tense, arms coming up to try and protect himself — and, as his luck would have it, Claude _also_ manages to smash his knees into the underside of the library table, knocking over his carefully stacked books in his sluggish panic. 

Pain bursts through his joints like jagged lightning, filling his mind with nothing but white hot _agony_ for a few seconds. 

_Well, that’s one hell of a way to wake up,_ he thinks, rubbing at his knees. He gives himself a second to collect himself before blearily opening his eyes. 

He’s met with the sight of Dimitri, lips downturned in a concerned frown. Claude’s rapidly beating heart instantly calms at the sight. 

“Oh, hey there,” he croakily drawls, as if he hadn’t been seconds away from panicking. “Lovely meeting you here! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Dimitri’s frown only deepens. “Are you okay?” he asks, completely ignoring the question. 

Claude huffs out a sigh he hopes comes off as dismissive. “Other than destroying my kneecaps? I’m fine, really. Just getting some last-minute studying in, you know?”

Dimitri bites his lips, expression teetering between concerned and amused. “Studying, so you say.” He glances over at the books on the table. “I didn’t realize Professor Manuela told us to study _Faerghus’s_ history along with the usage of white magic across the ages. The latter of which we have an _actual_ paper on?”

Claude rolls his eyes, thinking back to the earlier academy days when Dimitri actually _respected_ him. He misses those days – ever since they started dating, he’s been especially blunt, and at times like these he simply does _not_ appreciate it. 

“Okay, jeez, you got me,” he relents, ignoring the tired burn behind his eyes. “It’s less studying and more reading for my own curiosity.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dimitri says, sounding a bit smug. “Do you even know what time it is?”

He feels as if he’s being interrogated by a _parent,_ which is ridiculous, really. He’s allowed to make bad health decisions if he wants to, damn it. “Of course!” He lilts, batting his eyelashes at Dimitri. “It’s… sometime after midnight. I think.”

“It’s a little past four o’clock, to be specific,” Dimitri answers for him, a bit exasperated. “I thought you said you would at least _try_ to be a bit better about resting properly…”

Guilt flickers at the bottom of Claude’s stomach. This isn’t the first time Dimitri’s found him passed out in some random place, and as much as he hates to disappoint, it probably won’t be his last either. _Old habits die hard,_ he supposes. 

“Here, come on—” and that's all the warning Claude gets before hands wrap around his underarms and legs, and he goes _up._

“Hey!” Claude splutters, letting out an indignant yelp as he wraps his hands around Dimitri’s neck. A part of him is grateful no one else is around to see this embarrassing display. Of course, he knows that Dimitri probably has the strength to lift _Raphael_ like a princess, but _still._

“I’m sorry, but you’ve left me no choice,” Dimitri says, tone determined. “I’m putting you under house arrest until you get some proper sleep. I’ll tell the professor that you’re missing out on this morning’s lecture and ask Hilda to take notes for you.

“You’re going to make Hilda work?” Claude whines. He struggles for about two seconds until Dimitri’s iron grip around him tightens. “That’s inhumane, don’t you think?”

Perhaps a bit too dramatic, but at this point Dimitri is used to his theatrics. “Hilda is perfectly capable of paying attention in class for one day,” he argues back. 

“Well, I’m also the house leader. I need to be there for the rest of the team, be a good role model, you know? I don’t think—”

“Coming into class exhausted and falling asleep in the middle of a lecture would be a worse look on you as a leader, Claude,” Dimitri interrupts. “Say what you will, but you’re not going to convince me otherwise. You need to rest before you hurt yourself.” 

Unsure of how to respond, Claude simply stays quiet, too tired to protest any further. Dimitri quickly gathers Claude’s notes, leaving the mess of books behind _(I’ll deal with it once you’re in bed,_ Dimitri assures) and maneuvering him out the door. It’s a bit ridiculous, really, being manhandled like this, but for someone who has so much strength he’s come to learn how _gentle_ Dimitri can be. His steps are quiet, careful not to jostle him too much as they descend the stairs, and perhaps it’s a bit selfish but Claude finds himself relishing in his warm embrace. 

The people of Almyra often communicated through touch, rather than words. Coming to Fodlan with all their strange, new customs had felt like being thrown into the ocean with no warning. His unfamiliarity with Fodlan’s more in-depth traditions had been most apparent when Dimitri first tried to court him. The entire thing had been a mess, with both of them stumbling over themselves like idiots. He’s surprised they’ve even managed to get together at all, actually. 

He wonders if Dimitri can feel his appreciation through his tight grip. If he understands what he means when he buries himself into his neck. He hopes so, because despite what others think, words when concerning the matters of the heart have never been his strong suit. 

They get to Claude’s room quickly enough, and he must be more tired than he let on, because he falls asleep again somewhere along the way. He becomes a bit more aware of his surroundings only after he gets into bed, Dimitri brushing some hair out of his eyes.

“Sorry,” Claude mumbles, when Dimitri’s watchful gaze becomes a bit too much. He hates how his words slur from exhaustion. “You must be tired of dragging me around by now.”

“Of course not,” Dimitri admits easily. “I love you.” 

_What._

“What?” Claude replies eloquently, heart seizing. 

He had said it so suddenly, so _surely_ — as if there had been nothing else to say but those three words — and the confidence in his statement is throwing Claude in for a loop. He suddenly feels very much awake, mind already racing with what he could _possibly_ mean by that, by telling him so in his tired, vulnerable state. 

_Calm down,_ he tells himself, _he’s not trying to hurt you. Have a little faith._

Dimitri is most definitely blushing at his own words, as if surprised by himself, but even so there’s a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ve never said it before, but it’s true. I swear it on my heart, I lo—”

 _“Stop,”_ Claude hisses. He hates how hot his ears feel. “I — it’s too early for this.”

The double meaning in his statement doesn’t go unnoticed. Dimitri’s expression somehow softens even more. “I understand, Claude.”

 _No, you don’t,_ he thinks as Dimitri kisses his forehead. 

It’s not that Claude _doesn’t_ love Dimitri back. He wouldn’t have pursued a relationship seriously if that were the case. It’s just… Claude can count the amount of times those words have been said to him in sincerity with one hand. 

He might say a lot of things to try and charm his friends — and even his enemies — but those three words are _sacred._ They’re dangerous. And it feels like he’s being trusted with too much, with the way Dimitri had held him, has kissed his forehead, and looked for and _found_ him. 

Claude likes to put his emotions into neat little boxes, forcibly locking up whatever isn’t needed and making sure he develops the ones that will be useful. His curiosity. His determination. His unhappiness with the way the world works. He knows them like the back of his hand, weaponized against everyone who stands against him. On the other hand, things like his insecurity, his anxiety, his _fear —_ those, he pushes down behind easy smiles until the flames burn out and leave nothing but whispers of themselves. 

Something like love, especially on the battlefield, isn’t something to treat lightly. It’s something that could save him, or become his undoing. So far, he’s been holding it close, a guarded secret that everyone can see — if love could be used as a weapon, he’d rather wield it himself then give it to the hands of the enemy. 

But Dimitri’s feelings for _him…_ that's not something Claude can control. And leaving things to chance has never been his thing. Showing love, and being loved in return is something he struggles with accepting on the daily, but to hear it reflected so _easily_ makes his head spin. 

He doesn’t have time to ponder the subject any longer though, because sleep pulls at him from all corners. He thinks he hears Dimitri bidding him goodnight, and as his mind slowly fades to darkness, the last conscious thought he has is of Dimitri’s wonderful hands holding him tight. 

He hears those three words even in his dreams. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

**2.**

In hindsight, maybe scaling the walls of the goddess tower during lunch hadn’t been his _greatest_ idea. 

There’s a crowd of spectators forming under him, whispering amongst each other, and all he can think is, _shit, I’m going to get into so much trouble._

Well, if he somehow ends up falling off the wrong side of the tower, he can blame his injuries on Hilda. She’s the sole reason he finds himself up here anyways.

The story starts something like this: Claude and Hilda were walking around, trying to digest their food before training started next class. Hilda took out her handkerchief to wipe her mouth after Claude pointed out some leftover stains from the Two-Fish Saute they ate. Suddenly, the wind blew, and Hilda's handkerchief swept out of her hand, flying up and snagging on a jutting brick on the goddess tower. 

“My _brother_ gifted that to me,” Hilda had whined, looking up with a distraught expression. Claude knew Hilda well enough to recognize when she was being genuine in her distress, which was exactly why he offered to go retrieve it for her, being the good friend that he was. 

That had all been around ten minutes ago. Now, though, he’s starting to regret his choice of actions. The climb itself hadn’t been difficult (Claude feels as if he’s gotten quite good at scaling things thanks to Petra), and the handkerchief isn’t _so_ far off from the ground, but it’s currently caught _just_ out of his reach. His arms are sore, but he tries leaning forward a bit more anyways, only pulling back when he feels his legs sway. 

_Shit._ If only his arms were a _bit_ longer…

Perhaps using his wyvern would have been a smarter idea, but they’re not allowed to use cavalry or any other mounted units during the school day. Maybe after seeing Claude climbing literal buildings, Seteth will change the stupid policy.

On second thought, probably not, but a man can hope. 

Below him, he faintly hears Hilda gathering more students rather than trying to help him herself. _Last time I'm doing anything for her,_ he mentally grumbles, wondering if he should just give up. 

No, there _has_ to be some way to get it loose, right? Nothing comes to mind, but he’ll surely figure something out soon. Probably. _Hopefully._

He’s interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice calling out to him.

Claude peeks downwards to see Dimitri looking right back at him. Even from this distance, he can make out the brilliant blue in his eyes, rivaling the very sky above them. He looks stressed, though, and if he had hands Claude would have waved cheerily. 

“Claude!” Dimitri shouts, exasperation leaking into his voice. “Claude, I love you, but _what_ are you doing up there?!”

In hindsight, Claude thinks he reacted as anyone else might have. Truly. 

A romantic might have said that this was when time slowed down, but in reality it all goes by fairly quickly: his fingers slip off from the ledge, and he falls faster than he can realize what’s going on. Pure adrenaline bursts through his veins, and he isn’t so far from the ground that he’ll die upon impact, but it surely going to hurt like _hell—_

But rather than the cold, hard ground, Claude feels himself fall into a pair of sturdy, strong arms. 

For a moment, they tip dangerously, and Claude thinks they’re _both_ going to go down, but then Dimitri somehow manages to steady himself. The crowd around them screams as he lands, but the only thing he can focus on is Dimitri’s gaze on him, searching for injuries. When he seems to find none, the relief on his face slowly changes into anger. 

_Yikes._ Claude is going to have to work to get out of this one. “My knight in shining armor!” he coos, hoping that his nonchalance hides the shaking in his arms. “You’ve come to save me again! I keep finding myself in your arms, Dimitri. This really needs to stop happening.”

 _“Claude,”_ Dimitri hisses, humor gone from his voice. “Why would — why in the _world_ would you just _let go_ while you were up there? And what were you doing anyways? That was incredibly dangerous, and you’re lucky I was even here to catch you!”

A million different excuses run through Claude’s head — Hilda made him do it, he wanted to help his friend, it was supposed to be quick and easy — but what his mind settles on instead is, _you said you loved me in front of almost all of our classmates._

“Well, you were here to catch me, so all’s well that ends well, right?” Claude mutters, hoping nobody can tell how unsettled he is. He can feel everyone’s gaze on them, staring, _judging,_ and why is it so hard for him to laugh it all off, all of a sudden? It shouldn’t be such a big deal, and it’s not even an Almyran thing to freeze up whenever anyone says “I love you,” it’s just a _Claude_ thing, but even so a part of him trembles at the thought of being found out, _they’re going to find out —_

“Claude, stay with me,” Dimitri whispers, only for him.

The words settle around him, reminding him to breathe. He allows himself a moment to collect himself, to hold onto Dimitri for a second longer, before letting go. There’s only so long he can cling to his boyfriend before it gets suspicious, after all. He cracks open an eye to notice that most of the students have already dispersed, no longer interested in the drama. 

Good. There shouldn’t even have been there watching in the first place. 

“Oh my god, Claude, are you okay?” Hilda exclaims, running over to them frantically. She looks genuinely apologetic. “I never would have let you climb up there if you planned on just _falling_ like that!”

“It wasn’t really planned,” Claude says distantly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get your handkerchief. Send my apologies to Holst.”

“Don’t worry about it, he can buy me a new one anytime. I seriously owe you, like, a week’s worth of dessert for doing that for me though!” Hilda sighs. “I’m so sorry Dimitri. Please don’t be mad at Claude, I was the reason he climbed up there.”

“It’s fine,” Dimitri says, with none of the anger from earlier leaking into his voice. _What a gentleman,_ Claude muses, reaching out for his hand. He rarely initiates PDA (when they’re alone, it's a different story), but just for this moment, he wants something to hold onto. He feels as if he’ll fall apart if he doesn't. 

Dimitri’s hand squeezes back; a silent reassurance. 

When they’re finally left alone, Dimitri gently guides him to the offside of the tower balcony so that no one can interrupt them. If the situation were different, Claude would consider their little hiding spot romantic. 

“Claude,” Dimitri starts, expression careful. “I’m sorry I got angry at you. Are you okay?”

 _Say yes,_ a part of him thinks. 

“I will be,” he answers instead, the honesty of the statement burning his tongue. 

They both wait for something else, something _more,_ but suddenly Claude feels his throat close up. The conversation trails off awkwardly, and he wishes he could wipe off the look of frustration on Dimitri. 

“...Okay. Please don’t be so reckless again, alright? I worry about you.” Dimitri says. He opens his mouth as if to say more, only to bite his lips. 

“I won’t.” A pause, then, _you should say it now,_ he thinks, and thinks, and _thinks,_ but after a deliberate silence all he can choke out is a small, “Thanks, Dimitri. I appreciate it.”

And Claude had always accepted his cowardice, had never shied away from running away if that ensured his survival, but he feels a deep shame over it now. 

So they stand, hands interlocked, with a million unsaid words between them as Hilda’s handkerchief flows in the wind behind them, like a untouchable flag. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

**3.**

It was supposed to be an easy battle. 

_So why the hell are we getting ambushed?_ It’s the only thing Claude can think as he draws his bow, again and again. It feels endless, almost — he’ll shoot someone down, and another warm body will come right up to replace it. His body is sore from running and shooting and being shot at all the same, and judging by the lightness of his back, he’ll run out of arrows soon. 

Normally, they would have had this under control about fifteen minutes ago, but then again, _it was supposed to be an easy battle._ Their mission had been to suppress a small rebellion on the borders of the Alliance — simple enough — and according to their intel, they weren’t supposed to meet trained soldiers. Byleth had packed light, instructing everyone to avoid unnecessary killing. Most of these smaller bands quickly surrendered after realizing how outmatched they were against the knights of Serios after all, or so the plan went. 

Looking at the carnage around him, he distantly notes that Byleths plans have gone to shit. 

Speaking of Byleth, last he checked they were yelling out distant orders to the right of him, but now he isn’t quite sure of their whereabouts. They’re all spread thin and he doesn’t have the luxury to be looking for allies, but as he draws back his bowstring he finds himself searching the horizon anyways. There — to the east is Lorenz, summoning fireballs to blast away a few enemies. Not far off from him is Ferdinand, who seems to have a large gash running up his leg but continues to press his horse onwards anyways. _But where is_ he? Claude continues to glance around, almost frantically, fingers tense from the pressure of his bow. 

_There._ To the northwest, near Felix and Ashe, is Dimitri. He slashes through the enemy front lines with no hesitation, but even from here Claude can see his unsteady gait, his wavering form. He must have taken a pretty big hit to be faltering like that, and Claude’s heart seizes with a dull panic at the thought. 

_Concentrate and help where you can,_ a part of him mutters. He keeps watch, until his eyes catch the movement of an assassin coming up to attack Dimitri. Before he even realizes it his fingers release, arrow flying true and piercing the soldier right on their weapon hand. The knife in his hand drops, and Dimitri quickly turns around to cut him down, too. 

His arms reach back for another arrow, only to be met with nothing. _Shit._ He licks his lips, and brings out his axe instead. 

Claude has never liked fighting on the front lines — there's a reason why he likes to ride on his wyvern if he’s not in the backlines using his bow — but with no mount or ranged weapon at the moment, he has no other option. Without thinking, he turns to Dimitri’s direction. His legs pulse with adrenaline as he starts running, knocking back a few enemy soldiers in his way to his target. 

Dimitri only greets him with a grunt once he arrives, and from here he can see an arrow poking out from his legs, along with multiple cuts along the unprotected parts of his armor. It isn’t anything serious, but it should still be painful as hell; he’s surprised that Dimitri is fighting as fiercely as he is, considering the fact. 

_Fucking rebels,_ Claude seethes, _when did they get so many trained soldiers anyways?_

He has no time to voice his question out loud, though. The enemy front line is beginning to thin, he notes. Victory is close, so they’ll only need to hold out for a little longer. 

Claude never finds pleasure in killing, but even he has to admit that between the two of them, they make a fantastic pair on the battlefield. Despite the fact that Dimitri is heavily injured, and that Claude’s on his offhand weapon, they make quick work of any person foolish enough to challenge them. He feels safe, in a strange way, as Dimitri slashes through enemies that approach from his blind spot, and as Claude keeps an eye out for any other potential sneak attacks. 

It isn’t long until the troops start to retreat, but to Claude, it feels like an eternity has passed. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his axe fall from his hands.

Through the fumes of battle and the sweat dripping down from his face, all he can see is Dimitri. His leg is still very much bloody, and he has a few scrapes here and there, but overall he’s _safe._ He can’t begin to describe how relieved he feels. If there’s one thing that Claude detests about having a lover, it’s how much he worries about it — about _others._

When he was young, Claude had never been rewarded for self-sacrificial behavior. His childhood had been a sort of _‘kill-or-be-killed’_ situation, where caring for others was a weakness, not a strength. He learned how to fake a smile and hide a knife behind his back because most of the time, everyone else had a knife behind their backs too. 

And every time he’s on the battlefield with Dimitri, a part of him remembers this. He remembers the nights where he would wake up to assassins holding a knife to his neck, the sharp sting of betrayal from his long trusted allies. He remembers the honeyed words people loved to lavish him with, only to have their calculating stares tear him down, brick by brick, until he learned how to build his walls high enough and retaliate.

(But also, he remembers newer memories: of Dimitri staying by his side, protecting him in battle. Of Dimitri bringing him tea and cookies while they studied together. Of all the times Dimitri finds Claude and loves him, despite everything he’s done to stay distant lest he get hurt. 

And he can’t deny this feeling, anymore. Not when he looks into Dimitri’s eyes, or longs for his gaze, because the truth is that he _cares,_ and it’s perhaps the most dangerous thing he’s done.) 

And so, this is how it happens: Claude is thinking these thoughts, and Dimitri hesitantly smiles. “Well, that was something,” he hears himself say, but already, the enemy is moving, a fallen soldier thought to be dead. _That’s a knife,_ he realizes too slowly, and he stands in stunned silence as years of self-preservation fly out his head and all he can do is think, _oh shit._

Dimitri is quick to respond, but it’s still not enough — he pushes Claude away, the butt of his lance coming down to try and knock the soldier out, but the knife comes down and stabs him in the back. They both go down with a resounding crash, and Claude feels his heart drop. 

“Shit, Dimitri, are you okay?” Claude asks, even if Dimitri is _clearly_ not. He shoves aside the enemy soldier and kneels down to assess the damage. The wound is already bleeding profusely, which is bad enough, but there’s a real pain in Dimitri’s eyes that scares him — Dimitri has seen his share of injuries over the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever sustained something as direct as _this._

“I, uh,” Dimitri chokes out, “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Right, right,” Claude murmurs, and _shit,_ did he mention that there’s a lot of blood? Too much of it, really — an abnormal amount. He pales as he takes a closer look at the blade sticking out. Poisoned, probably. Faith has never been his strong suit, but even so he finds himself regretting his negligence on the subject. They needed a healer, and _fast._

With no antitoxin or anything of the sort immediately on hand (this is the last time Claude will underestimate an enemy), there’s not much he can do. “This is going to hurt,” he says apologetically, before quickly ripping out the knife. He works as efficiently as he can, tearing off his sleeve and tying it around his body as a sort of make-shift bandage. Dimitri barely makes noise as Claude tends to him, but the dead-tight grip he has on himself betrays how much pain he’s in. 

“I got you,” Claude whispers, and before he can think better of it, shakily kisses Dimitri’s forehead. The cloth is already soaked through. “Don’t worry, I got you…”

He doesn’t realize he’s rambling and shaking until Dimitri gently grabs at his bloodied hand. 

_Even now, must you treat me so kindly?_ He thinks. 

“Claude, it’s fine. You’ll be okay,” he rasps, voice weak. 

“But _you_ won’t,” Claude shudders. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it _so much worse._ “This isn’t about me anymore. Dimi, you’re bleeding too much, we need to get — to get Mercedes, or Teach, or _someone.”_ He raises his voice, looking around the empty field around them. “We need a _healer,_ please!”

Dimitri smiles at him, then, and suddenly he knows that this image will haunt him in all his nightmares to come — his lover, bleeding out in his arms, red staining the grass around them, staring at him as if he’s the sun without realizing he’s burning in the process. 

They need to move, before Dimitri _really_ does bleed out. With as much gentleness he can conjure, he wraps Dimitri’s arms around his shoulder and lifts him up, scanning the field for any sign of his allies. Byleth had been to his right, was it? Why can’t he remember? 

“Claude, there’s something I want to say…”

“No, stop, we’ll get you healed and you'll be up right away. Don’t say anything, _shit,_ save your energy—”

“Claude, I need you to hear this before—”

“You can tell me about it _later,_ once we’ve gotten you all patched up and ready to go again.”

“I lo—”

 _“Stop it,_ Dimitri,” he chokes out, feeling tears start in his eyes. “Tell me later. You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

Dimitri squeezes his hand, then, as if looking for his pulse. His heart beats so rapidly he’s sure it’s going to jump out of his chest, and then they’ll _both_ be bleeding out on the battlefield, waiting at the mercy of the goddess for a safety that might never come. How pathetic would that be?

“Claude I—”

_“I said to stop—”_

_“I love you,”_ Dimitri wheezes out. The world caves in. 

“Fuck.” He feels like the words are being punched out of his lungs, one by one. “Dimitri, stay awake. Do _not_ pass out on me okay? You cannot just — just _leave_ after saying that.”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispers, as if it’s his fault. 

“Let me say it back. Okay, Dimitri? It can’t end like this. You’re better than that. You have to let me say it back.”

There’s no response. 

Mercedes finds them a few minutes later, with Claude desperately dragging Dimitri to where he thinks the others might be. Even she blanches at the amount of red between them, and he’s glad no one else is around to see him basically grovel at her feet and beg for her healing.

Dimitri is taken away to a private medical tent, eventually. Later, Claude tries to recall the events as best as he can, but all he remembers is the _stench,_ the bright crimson, and that crumbling smile against the deadened grass, dulled eyes framed by stringy hair. 

Something resolves within Claude, then, as the crew slowly make their way back to the Monastery, victory bitter on their backs. He will not die, and he will not let Dimitri die either. Not until Claude can say those words back with confidence. Not until he knows that it’s safe to love, and in return be loved, without the threat of loss hanging over them like an executioner’s axe. 

And when Dimitri wakes up a few days later, Claude is by his side to first provide him with water, and then to smack him in the head for his reckless behavior. 

“Don't do that again, you hear?” Claude lectures, tone in between joking and serious. “You can’t be taking hits like that for me. You — I want to say it back, Dima. You’ll need to wait.”

It’s a selfish request, he knows, but Dimitri only blinks once before nodding in understanding. There’s a soft smile to his face, even now, not unlike the one he wore when he was minutes away from death. 

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

**4.**

Sometimes, they’ll end up sleeping together. 

Claude means this in the most literal of ways. Everyone has nightmares, so neither of them think strangely of those off nights where they’ll randomly come into each other’s rooms and curl up next to a warm body, if only to get a few hours of sleep. Sylvain doesn’t even make a joke full of innuendos when they come out of a room together one morning, which really goes to say how fragile they must look. 

At this point, they might as well start just sharing one room. Claude is tired of waking up sweating and scared and most of all _alone,_ and perhaps it's a little too dependent or needy, but he’s denied himself so many pleasantries in life he can’t help but long for comfort. At least in the darkness of the night, there’s no judgemental eyes or strangers to worry about. It’s just the two of them, together. 

Images from a vague nightmare flicker like an old tape behind his eyelids. He was being chased, or something, and maybe there had been blood — he’s not sure of the details anymore, but even so, that awful sensation still lingers in his bones, like poison in his veins. 

Claude is walking towards Dimitri’s room before he even realizes it.

They’re both light sleepers, so even when he tries to be quiet about his entrance Dimitri is up immediately. He stays silent though, as Claude all but collapses into the space next to him, hoping that the soft moonlight doesn’t betray the shaking of his arms and the unsteadiness in his breathing. 

The monastery’s beds are only made for one person, but they do their best to make it work. Claude is skilled in making himself fit in places he’s not supposed to be anyways. 

It’s strange, in a way, how comforting a single person’s arms can be. He’s so used to keeping a distance from everyone, constantly trying to read the atmosphere, read the little smiles everyone loves to give him. He’s used to feigning his laughter while keeping close tabs on everyone’s likes, everyone’s preferences — people are less likely to betray you if you prove your worth, after all. 

Yet with Dimitri, that overwhelming desire to please everyone around him always seems to fade away. It’s terrifying, when he thinks about how much power Dimitri has over him. It’s terrifying, when he thinks about how, despite his best efforts to keep him at arms length, Dimitri has nestled himself against Claude’s heart, his love and affection pulsing as steadily as his heartbeat, reminding him how to breathe at every moment of the day. 

It’s terrifying, but also lovely. So Claude lets himself fall into Dimitri’s arms, fully, _earnestly._

“I’ve got you,” Dimitri mumbles in his half-awake state, rubbing soothing circles into Claude’s back. “Come back to me.”

He’s shaking, still, but he feels calmer, _safer,_ in Dimitri’s warm embrace. In the darkness, he imagines that the universe holds only them, like two stars orbiting around each other, hurtling through space by the sheer force of their gravity. 

They lie together for goddess knows how long. Claude puts his head against Dimitri’s chest — perhaps it’s a little silly, but ever since that battle, he finds comfort in making sure his heartbeat is steady and strong. Dimitri chuckles knowingly, combing through Claude’s messy hair. 

“And I thought I was the one who was haunted by ghosts.” Then, more seriously, “I won’t be dying anytime soon, Claude. You can rest easy.”

“I know,” Claude replies, keeping his ear to his chest. “It’s just nice to listen to.

“If you say so.”

Another silence envelops them. Claude is on the edge of sleep when Dimitri leans down, pulls him closer, and whispers as if his words are a secret from even the goddess herself — _”I love you so much.”_

And Claude melts, gripping onto Dimitri like a lifeline. 

Even if he’s not ready to say it back, Claude feels the overwhelming urge to _show_ it. He looks up to Dimitri’s eyes and knows that even when closed, his gaze is brighter than any morning sky. He leans up — Dimitri isn’t that much taller than him now, but he’s most definitely been growing over the months (which is completely unfair, if you ask him), and kisses his cheeks, his forehead, like he does whenever Dimitri comes shaking into his room. He cups his cheeks and feels like he’s holding the entire world in his hands, and his heart vibrates with how much he _wants._

He holds him there, until the darkness in his heart slowly melts away, and the only thing he can feel is Dimitri. His warmth. His comfort. His _love,_ pouring out so steadily Claude can barely keep up with it all. 

“Dima,” he starts, words at the back of his throat. His voice falters. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers back. “I’m here.”

And so, this is how Claude falls asleep — holding onto Dimitri and praying that somehow, he can feel his heartbeat too.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

**5.**

Even if Claude has been in Fodlan for years now, he’s still not used to the cold that winter brings. 

They’re marching through Faerghus territory to dispatch some bandits ( _properly_ equipped now, mind you), and Claude wishes he had packed another jacket. Even with his thickest one on, he still finds his teeth chattering from the chilly air that sweeps past them. Up front, Professor Byleth is leading them all, looking unfazed as ever. 

They had picked a strange selection of students, a mixture of all three houses, and sure enough Ashe and Felix from the Blue Lions seem to be just _peachy_ in the weather, marching alongside Byleth with a carefree attitude. Claude notes that the Adestrian Empire’s winters must be decently cold as well, seeing that Edelgard, Dorothea, and Hubert seem to be rather unaffected. 

He knows the Alliance is the warmest land of the three, so it’s no surprise when Hilda starts to complain about how cold she is, and why couldn’t they bring someone else? And of course, Lysithea begins to complain about _Hilda_ complaining, as if she could hide how much she’s shivering under her coat. And Claude would probably be complaining about Lysithea complaining about Hilda complaining, if only for the hell of it, if he weren’t so indisposed himself. He’s sure that if he tried to speak, the chattering of his teeth would instantly give him away anyways. 

Oh, and Dimitri is there too. He’s staying behind with Claude, and everyone is kind enough to ignore the fact that they’re basically glued to each other. In his defense, Dimitri started it, and at this point being cuddly with Dimitri in public doesn’t matter so much if he can just get _warmer._

Although, staying so close also means that Dimitri can feel just how much he’s shivering. He manages to keep it relatively under control for about the first fifteen minutes of the trek before exposing himself with a goddamn _sneeze_ of all things. 

“Bless you!” Ashe calls from up front, ever the gentleman. 

“Thanks,” Claude says, before sneezing again. 

“Are you getting sick?” Lysithea asks, looking at him with a wary expression. “Don’t come near me if you are.”

Claude pouts, somehow keeping his expression intact despite the overwhelming need to hide his face into Dimitri’s fur coat. It just looks so _warm._ “Aw, I’m hurt. Shouldn’t you be comforting your house leader in his time of need? Where’s the respect, Lysithea?”

“I’ll break your kneecaps,” she warns, marching a little ahead. 

Dimitri, on the other hand, lightly tugs on Claude’s sleeve with a concerned frown on his face. 

“Are you alright? I could perhaps lend you some body heat—”

“You two are already sharing as much body heat as you can,” Dorothea quips. They both decide to ignore the comment. 

“— or offer my jacket,” Dimitri continues, undeterred. 

Claude tries not to shiver in anticipation at the idea. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I can handle it.”

And Claude, as disappointed as he is to say, is only a man. A man who is most _definitely_ not built for such harsh weather conditions, and a man who is _not_ foolish enough to deny such a wondrous opportunity when presented as so. 

He only needs to hesitate for a second for Dimitri to start shedding his coat. As Dimitri drapes it over his shoulders, he practically melts into it; it feels like being wrapped up in instant heat, as if a piece of the sun had been broken off and given to him in the form of an oversized, bright blue, wooly coat.

...The metaphor sounded better in his head. 

“Thanks,” he breathes, finally gaining some control over his chattering lips. Dimitri just grins at him. 

“Anything for you, my love.”

No matter how many times he hears it, he can’t help but blush furiously at the words. 

People always assume that since Claude likes to talk people up, and is _very_ good at negotiating, he can flirt. The honest truth, though, is that he’s _horrible_ at it. Using pet-names, initiating hand-holding, and all that cute couple stuff Dimitri seems to love — he feels like a fish out of water when it comes to such matters. He’s gotten a little better over the months, but _still;_ he’s starting to look like a bad boyfriend, or something. 

Everyone else, he thinks, acts as they should: he can practically _feel_ Felix roll his eyes, and Edelgard looks over at the two of them with a slightly disdainful look – she’s holding hands with Dorothea, though, so why she’s judging them for blatant displays of their affection, he’s not sure. And Hilda, of course, fake-gags and covers Lysithea’s eyes while mock whispering, “Not in front of the _children!”_

“Fuck off,” Lysithea growls while shoving Hilda away. Dimitri looks disturbed, although if it’s from Lysithea’s profanity or Hilda’s dramatics, he’s not sure. 

“You're embarrassing me,” Claude whispers, half in jest and half in seriousness. His ears are most definitely red now, and he can’t even blame it on the cold anymore. Dimitri, frustratingly enough, doesn't seem to be affected at all. 

“Why? I love you. Am I not allowed to say it?”

And Claude thinks back to the first time Dimitri uttered those words, when he found Claude passed out at the library — back then, he had been a blushing mess himself, fumbling over his feelings as if they were a revelation. 

None of those jitters from back then seem to be present now. He has an almost defensive glare in his eyes and holds Claude’s hands even tighter. The insecurity in his gaze isn’t from uncertainty in his feelings for Claude, he realizes. Dimitri is uncertain if he reciprocates as strongly as he does. And he wishes he could wipe that doubt away, wishes he had the strength to swipe Dimitri off his feet and kiss him with all the dramatics of those books Ashe loved to read. 

He wishes he were brave, and as feeling slowly starts to come back to his fingertips, he thinks that maybe he can be. Just a little. 

“Well… I’d like to hear it again, actually.” 

“...I love you?”

The air leaves his lungs. Claude doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing those three words, a song made just for him. “Yeah, that.”

Dimitri smiles, then. “I love you.”

“...Mm. Me too,” Claude says, looking at anywhere but Dimitri. It’s the closest he’s gotten to actually saying it, and perhaps if they were alone under the bright winter sun, he would have. 

But they’re not, and this time he _sees_ Felix rolling his eyes at them as Hubert glares at them for no other reason than that he can. So instead, he laughs, smiling at Dimitri with a genuineness he saves for special occasions and special people, burying himself deeper into his coat. 

It smells like his favorite thing in the world. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

**+1.**

This time, it’s Claude who finds Dimitri late at night. 

The winter chill persists even at night, and although it isn’t nearly as cold as it is in Faerghus, Claude still brings out his blanket to keep himself reasonably warm. He had gone to Dimitri’s to bid him goodnight, only to hear from Sylvain that he had gone out for a late night stroll. 

He’s not sure what makes him look for Dimitri. Usually, taking a walk means that he wants to be left alone, but recently Claude always finds himself gravitating towards him anyways. It’s as if Dimitri is his north star and Claude has been lost his entire life, and the only place that feels like home is in his arms. Or, it’s as if Dimitri is the sun, and Claude is just the planet that orbits around, forever pulled in by an invisible force. 

_When did I become such a romantic?_ He wonders idly, whistling as he makes his way through the monastery grounds. If younger Claude had known his older self would be waxing poetic prose about his lover, he would have laughed at himself. 

He finds Dimitri sitting by the lake, feet barely skimming the water. His coat spreads out behind him like a regal carpet, fluttering slightly in the wind. 

“Can’t sleep?” he calls out, taking a seat next to him. His own feet don’t quite reach the water, to his annoyance. 

Dimitri only lets out a sigh, leaning in a bit closer to Claude. An invitation to stay, then. This isn’t the first time Claude has found Dimitri late at night, so he knows to fill the darkness with some mindless chatter. 

He talks about his day. He talks about his latest work on his poisons. He talks about everything and nothing and all the things in between, even though he knows Dimitri isn’t really listening, mind far away in a place only he knows. 

Claude hates that distant gaze, and most nights he knows he can’t do much about it. But, for some reason tonight, he feels like being bold. 

“Come on, get up,” he starts suddenly, pulling at Dimitri’s hand. They must have been sitting for a while now, because his legs ache as he stands up. 

Dimitri only looks up at him with a confused expression. “What?”

He smiles down at him, all teeth with a twinkle in his eyes. “Sitting around won’t distract us, now will it? And besides, the sky is particularly clear tonight. It’d be a waste to not look at the stars.”

Dimitri actually grins a bit at that, meaning he isn’t as gone as Claude thought. “So you admit this is a distraction?”

“Of course it is,” Claude says, winking. “But I wasn’t lying about the stargazing part. Let’s go.”

Silently, Claud leads them to the bridge. Maybe someplace more romantic, like the goddess tower, might have been better, but he likes the view from here more. Being able to see the massive, ancient monastery surrounding him, with open fields dropping down below — it’s almost freeing.

Claude whistles, looking up as he leans against the stone walls. “Wow. I dont think i’ve ever seen the sky so clearly. I bet you can even see Andromeda from here.”

Dimitri tilts his head. “Andromeda? I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.” 

_Shit._ “It’s, uh… a lesser known one.” If he were with anyone else, he would have just left it at that. But the words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it. “Where I grew up though, it was very popular. She featured in a lot of children’s fables.”

Dimitri stays silent. Claude takes a deep breath. 

“But, enough about her. Do you know any other constellations?”

“Nothing that you would find interesting, I’m afraid,” Dimitri says after a short pause. “I only know the basic ones.”

“Hey, I’d still like to hear about them. I don’t know as much as you think I do.” _At least, not when it comes to the stars in Fodlan, anyways._ Then, softer, he goes, “Tell me about the stars, Dimi.”

And this time it’s Claude’s turn to be silent and stare as Dimitri hesitantly starts talking. “You see, there’s this one called Lupus…”

He wants to listen — really, he does — but Claude feels himself getting pulled into a lull by the cadence of Dimitri’s voice. His eyes shine brighter than the moon, arms gesticulating as he tells his story. Just looking at the tension in his shoulders slowly fade as he relaxes fills Claude with an indescribable sort of happiness. 

“Hey, Dimitri?” Claude interrupts, breathless.

He turns to him with an inquisitive gaze. It burns through Claude, stripping him dry, until there’s nothing else he wants to say, _needs_ to say, except —

“I love you.”

The words echo against his ears, resounding like a beating drum. 

Dimitri looks like a deer in headlights at the sudden confession, and Claude would laugh if it weren’t for his own stuttering heart.

“Say it again,” Dimitri says suddenly.

“What?”

His expression is fierce, _bold._ He takes a step closer, and Claude inadvertently leans in. “Say it again.”

 _What? You didn’t hear it the first time?_ Claude wants to joke. _Well, if you missed it, you missed it._

Yet, when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is his voice, loud and clear and _pure —_ “I love you.”

Dimitri breaks into a smile, then, brighter than any of the stars above them. “I love you too,” he starts, breathless, and before Claude realizes what he’s doing, Dimitri sweeps him up and lifts him off the ground. He yelps, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s neck as he starts to spin them around. It’s dizzying, it’s _messy,_ but under the night sky he feels like he’s dancing. 

“I love you!” Claude says again, just because he can. Dimitri just giggles from under him — honest to goddess _giggles —_ and looks up at him with such adoring eyes that Claude is sure he’s going to die. 

“You’re my brightest light, Claude.”

“Ahaha, alright, that’s enough,” he chuckles as Dimitri finally lets him back on the ground. He doesn’t let go of Dimitri, though. 

“The kindest, most courageous—”

“That’s not—”

“The loveliest—”

“Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you? I —”

“The absolute _best_ at—”

Claude shuts him up with a kiss. It feels like melting. It feels like he’s coming _alive._

When they finally part, they’re both breathing heavily. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it,” he confesses, like one of his secrets laid out to bare. “I’m just — I think I was scared. I still am. I don't know how this is all going to end up in the future.”

“Claude…” Dimitri starts. Claude hushes him and smiles. It’s small and hesitant, but it’s real. 

“But this feels right. I’m tired of waiting and I can’t hide it any longer. I really do love you, Dimitri.”

Dimitri just cups Claude’s face. His own smile is bright and wide, like an excited child’s. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing those words from you.”

“Then I hope there never comes a day where I can’t,” he says. 

And it’s dangerous, he knows, to say such things. Claude has never been one to leave things to chance and _this —_ this most certainly does. He’s got his own ambitions and dreams — ones that he might be killed for. Ones that could put even Dimitri in danger. Dimitri, who has his own set of problems to deal with, his own _nation_ to rule in the future. Right now, a promise is as good as a curse.

But as they make their way back to their rooms, Claude is filled with an overwhelming confidence, an inexplicable urge to bet it all anyways. Dimitri is dangerous in that sense, but right now, he finds himself unafraid. 

Unafraid, because Dimitri has become so much more than just a small crush, a hopeless dream. Unafraid, because he’s tired of waiting for the “right moment,” if such a thing exists. Unafraid, because he’s now realizing that he’s been thinking of the entire situation all _wrong._

Loving Dimitri isn’t a risk, it’s a safety net. 

And so, as they finally go to bed — still giggling like teenage idiots in love — he lets himself fall, fall, and _fall,_ where all his walls are down and his heart is out for Dimitri to hold tightly, to protect. 

_I will create a future where we can be happy together,_ Claude resolves. _There has to be a way to reach that sort of tomorrow._

“Can I hear it one more time?”

And Claude looks up from where he’s buried in Dimitri’s chest and licks his lips, putting all his hopes and dreams and determination into his voice for him to see. 

_“I love you.”_

And he falls, where Dimitri’s grace catches him. 

**Author's Note:**

> ajsdfkladjfksadfasd its done... thanks for all the support guys. Feel free to talk to me about anything i write on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/ixcarus_) where I sometimes post art!!
> 
> also the fourth one is like.. the shortest, i'm sorry about that;; fun fact when i first discovered the 5+1 trope years ago, i used to think I would never write it myself. Not because I didn't like it! just cause I wasn't very interested in writing shorter pieces ..... look where I am now lol. Although, I won't complain. this was very fun to write! once again thanks to all the people who encouraged me while i was writing this... u know who u are... and have a great day everyone.


End file.
